


Getting Rapture Back On Track

by Amsare



Category: BioShock
Genre: Friendship/Love, M/M, One Shot, Other, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 11:04:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8530546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amsare/pseuds/Amsare
Summary: Atlas and his father Frank Fontaine had got to the city of Rapture ready to start a new life. As time goes by, Atlas understands his father’s business is making him mad: he needs to do something to stop him. Meanwhile, Jack Ryan, son of the ruler of Rapture, wants to help Atlas' cause.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The title was inspired by _The Pie Song_ from _Burial At Sea_ Soundtrack.

When his father had told him that they would have moved to a new city, Atlas could not imagine that this city would have been in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, under galleons and galleons of water.  
   
The day they left Ireland once for all, it seemed like any other cold day of December: they went to the port and left on a boat, as soon as the man on board controlled their documents. This man had seemed so secretive about this phantom city called  _Rapture_ , that Atlas thought it was all a joke, something too good to be true. He expected the boat to stop somewhere in open water just before coming back on shore.  
   
Now, he was sitting next to his father, freezing, after long hours spent sailing in the middle of the cold sea; they were nearly there according to the Captain, so they had to prepare to get off the boat.  
   
“Look! Mummy, look!” A little girl was pointing at a dim light visible on the horizon: it appeared and disappeared rhythmically, just like if it was a lighthouse. “Is that our new home?”  
   
Her mother was right next to her, caressing her little head with fond love, “yes, Lucy, that's home.”  
   
Atlas lit on a cigarette, looking away from that  _lovely_  scene: it made him feel uncomfortable, as that woman had reminded him of his mother. There was no point into thinking about her though, as she had died when he was just six years old; he was a grown up man now in his thirties and surely, crying for his mother was not one of his priorities. He wondered if she had been happy to leave motherland anyway...   
The horn of the boat made him jump and his father joyfully laughed. “There it is the lighthouse, son.”  
   
A lighthouse, then: so that was their destination.  
   
“Well, we can take a long look to the sky, son,” his father said to him, putting a soothing hand on his shoulder, “this will be the last time you'll see it.”  
   
Atlas looked at those silent stars, admiring the Milky Way; he was not the only one on that boat with his gaze upon the sky as they were all the chosen ones to be part of something greater than themselves. They had left their country, the life they knew full of hopes and dreams...  
   
"We're nearly there!"  
   
"Oh, Harold, it's just like a dream coming true!"  
   
Atlas snorted when he heard those comments, blowing off the smoke out of his mouth.  
He could not tell why, but he knew that something would have not been right, nothing would have been just like in a dream. Sooner or later, there would have been somebody who would have wanted to make up his own rules. Man is selfish and destroys everything good he touches – two World Wars had occurred in less than fifty years after all. Atlas would have been the one to suffer the consequences, just like it had always happened to the Fontaine family.  
   
He looked at his father and wondered if he had to be afraid of him: he had this crazy look in his face, a strange glimpse glowing into his little eyes.   
   
"You'll thank me one day, son, you'll be grateful I brought you here."  
   
Atlas tossed the cigarette out the boat, smoke filling his lungs, shivering a little. "Well, we'll see."  
   
***  
   
Just like any other ambitious man who had come to Rapture, his father started his own business and  _business_  was synonym to  _trouble_. To keep on growing, he needed workers who wanted to be paid properly which was not a word Atlas' father seemed to understand.  _Fontaine Fisheries_ was getting important every day it passed: there was no competition. Not mentioning when they had found that disgusting reddish sea slug which had seemed to produce some sort of miraculous treatment.  
   
Year after year, the slugs had become the priority over the fish but that was fine to Atlas as long as he could work as he pleased: he was not a man made to get older and older behind a stupid desk! There was plenty of work to do, getting the fish and piloting the submarine. Working side by side with common people had made him well aware of the hard conditions they lived in. He had not lost his head, nor sold his soul to the Devil: he had not forget his humble roots in Ireland.  
   
At _Fontaine Fisheries_ , the hours were long and the pay was ridiculously low. He had tried to talk about it to his father, but Frank Fontaine did not care about this kind of problems.  
   
"We come here to seek fortune and you still want to work hard!" His father had said one day, looking at him disappointingly as Atlas had come back home after long hours spent into the fisheries.  
   
Atlas sighed, "I don't understand why it bothers you so much."  
   
"You could be working with me, preparing yourself to a long life of prosperity!" His father's voice was loud charismatic as if he was selling a product to his own son. "This is not why we came here for. And you stink." Fontaine's face showed contempt, shaking his head; then, he took a napkin out of his pocket and put it on his mouth.  
   
Atlas had not moved from the entrance door, looking at that old man sitting on the armchair: had he always been this kind of pathetic? Selfish? Greedy? Maybe Atlas was looking at his father for the first time in years for real. "I'm going to take a shower, then," he said sarcastically – not that Frank Fontaine would have noticed it.  
   
The following day, he woke up with an idea buzzing in his head, something to the limit of the legality:  _rebellion_. If he wanted to do it, there would have been no turning back then. He went to _Fontaine Fisheries_ and greeted his colleagues, the ones he could trust who wanted a better life. Atlas would have given it to them. Fuck Fontaine, fuck his ADAM.   
   
***  
   
Everything was happening so fast that even Atlas couldn't believe it: he had turned his back on his father, leaving their apartment and quitting his job at the _Fisheries_. Many others workers had done the same and the newspapers were all about them for once.  
   
He started to talk to the people gathered by his closest followers: they had all the same desperation on their faces.  
   
The last person Atlas expected to meet there, was Andrew Ryan's son, Jack Andrew Ryan: the young man was easily recognizable, as he was taller than the average. There had been a party in his honour not so long ago: he had turned twenty and only the richest of Rapture citizens could take part to this event. Music, dances, whiskey, wine: the usual for the upper class of that damned city. Sander Cohen himself had even written a questionable play in his honour. All the headlines were all about this, as if the journalists could write about something else. Fontaine had complained about it for days because he had not been invited: clearly, they had not been important enough.  
   
"Jack Ryan among us, ladies and gentlemen," Atlas announced sarcastically, raising his eyebrows for the surprise, "he's got off his high horse to meet us!"  
   
Most of the men laughed at hearing his snarky comment but Jack did not mind them; he looked at Atlas with wide eyes and said, "yes, I'm here 'cause I believe in your cause."  
   
Atlas snorted, "why should we believe that the bastard son of Ryan would help us?"  
   
"I want to speak with you. Alone."  
   
Atlas considered the idea; clearly, giving him a chance would have been a good for his cause. He had to decide and fast, because the crowd was probably looking forward to lynch him.  
   
"Fine. Follow me, then, as I'm not like those bastards who rule us," he finally said, crowd laughing and clapping. "I'm a _man_."  
   
They went far away from the crowd, entering in one of the hideout of his gang. Among the food stashed in there, there was a desk and a chair where Atlas sat down; he lined back and put his feet on the desk as if it were nothing, while Jack was silently waiting for the permission to say something.  
   
Atlas sighed and then moved a hand towards him as to encourage him, "so here we are. Speak."  
   
The young man scratched his head. "I know my presence here is not welcomed," Atlas snorted by hearing that but Jack kept on talking,  "but as soon as I heard you talk about rights and free food for the poor, well, I understood something wasn't right for me... I tried to live the lie my father had created here, but I just couldn't take it anymore. And when Fontaine came out with that crazy stuff, the ADAM, well, my father wasn’t my father anymore."  
   
"What do you mean?"  
   
"He's not the man he was, you know. He forgot our roots, who we were before Rapture, all  _this_ " Jack sighed, lowered his sad gaze, "made him crazy."  
   
"I can't say I blame you, boyo," Atlas lit on cigarette, offering one to Jack who accepted with pleasure, "my father had always been obsessed with money and he had always been competitive. Reminds me of yours."  
   
"I bet the idea of pissing off Andrew Ryan was too strong, yeah?" Jack interrupted him, a smile without joy on his face.  
   
"Let's put it this way. ADAM is his golden goose and he won't leave it to Ryan. Especially now, with all these men and women craving for more and more of it." Atlas laughed bitterly, "it is all he ever wanted, to become one of them, suit and tie. He doesn't care about the consequences, he doesn't think about all the lives he's destroying with that shit." Atlas shivered as he was speaking, recalling those Little Sisters: they had seemed to come out straight from a horror book.  
   
"So, you don't mind about money," Jack said, "and you don't talk to your father anymore, do you?"  
   
"I thought it would have been clear by now, I quitted _Fontaine Futuristics_ and it was the best I could ever do in my life. I don't give a damn about his shitty company business, boyo. All I care is the people now."  
   
He exhaled some smoke, lining back against the seatback, "And what the people want now is dignity; a place to live with their family without being mistreated by the higher class of Rapture; a decent work, a decent home."  
   
Jack nodded in agreement, smoking his cigarette with a thoughtful expression on his young face. "Tell me how I can help you."  
   
Atlas smirked. "Welcome to the revolution, boyo."  
   
That was the beginning of an interesting partnership.  
   
***  
   
First things Jack had to do were simple, as he limited himself to give food to the poorest people of Rapture. He organized the stocks of food and fresh water, making sure the children were the first to be fed.  Atlas had to admit that the young man was different from what he had expected him to be: he was kind and despite his initial shyness, he was nice to the ones in need. The opposite of Andrew-Selfish-Ryan.  
   
"People will see you like a modern Jesus," Atlas commented one night after a long day of work, "they'll want you as their new leader and everything will change for the better." He opened two beers, offering one to Jack; then, he drank his first refreshing sip. They had come back to his private quarters, both standing in front of one of the windows, looking at the dark ocean outside. No stars, no moon... It was still so strange, even after all that time underwater.  
   
"If my father heard you talking about Jesus..."  
   
There was no space for god in Rapture. Only  _man_  was the priority: you could have been arrested if you had a bible on your bed or a cross around your neck – not mentioning if you happened to be a converted priest! Atlas snorted, looking at Jack quite amused, "if I were Ryan, I'd worry about something else, boyo."  
   
Jack smirked at him, bringing the bottle to his mouth: for a moment Atlas stared at those lips... He wondered what it would have been like kissing them. It was no surprise Atlas was having those kind of thoughts: they were spending a lot of time together, shoulder to shoulder and besides, Jack Ryan was a good-looking lad. You had to be honest with yourself sometimes.  
   
"Well, what's next then?" Jack asked him, making him come back to reality. "'Cause you know, your father's still kicking. And he's pissed off, just like mine."  
   
Atlas blinked a couple of time, drinking from his bottle once again. "I'll deal with him, soon. And I'll make him wish we had never came here."  
   
Jack nodded, eyes looking down, hand tightening around the beer bottle. "I'm glad you're here, anyway. I mean, I hate this fucking city, too... And I wish my father had never gone crazy but..." He sighed, shaking a little, "...it's better with you. Somehow."  
   
That came out unexpected.  
   
Atlas cleared his throat, feeling overwhelmed; he would have blamed it to the beer but he could hold his drink, thank you very much. This lad had become essential in Atlas' life.  
   
"I didn't have much to do before, didn't have real friends. I spent hours playing poker at Fort Frolic," Jack laughed without joy, "so yeah, sorry if I'm being sentimental... Don't wanna piss you off." He looked at Atlas, cheeks red, "but thank you. Really."  
   
He could see him, that lad, all alone in his golden palace... Atlas had been alone, too: at least he had his mother taking care of him when he was a child. For all he knew, Jack's mother was a mystery as his despotic father had never been seen by some fancy lady. What a pity.  
   
Atlas moved towards him, putting his free hand over his shoulder. "Don't be sorry," he murmured, giving him a kiss. It was Jack's turn to be surprised, but it didn't take him too long to deepen it, forgetting everything else outside of that room.  
   
***  
   
Things were changing fast: curfew, ID cards to use bathyspheres, people restricted in a whole section sentenced to death, freaks addicted to ADAM who could attack you and kill you... Rapture's future was getting darker and darker every day.  
   
"I intercepted a conversation between Fontaine and old Peach Wilkins, it seems the next ADAM cargo will be delivered this night," one of Atlas' man said to him right after noon. Meanwhile, Atlas had been watching a map of Rapture since that morning.  
   
"This night, you said?"  
   
Their time had finally come, then.  
   
"Aye, boss!"  
   
"Fine. Gather the others, we have some work to do."  
   
That was all he needed to sentence his father to death that very night. He was glad to know that Jack was busy helping the poor – the boy had to be safe as he had become a symbol – maybe even more important than Atlas himself. Not mentioning how much he cared for him! The last thing he wanted was seeing Jack killed by that bastard of Fontaine.  
   
Atlas loaded his gun. "I'm coming father."  
   
***  
   
"GET BACK TO YOUR SENSES, ATLAS!"  
   
His father's voice was full of rage: Atlas didn't care. When he pulled the trigger, he was more than happy to see Frank Fontaine's dead body on the floor. He was dead,  _he was dead_  and he couldn't speak anymore.  
   
_So Long, Father._  
   
When his men called him, he was still staring at that dead body. The salty air mixed up with the smell of death was strong, nearly nauseous but he couldn't move from where he was standing, anyway.  
   
_It's over._  
   
His father was dead.  
   
***  
   
"You're alive!"  
   
This is the first thing Jack said to Atlas, as soon as he came back from the blitz; the young man couldn't resist the urge of hugging him, "you're  _alive_!"  
   
Atlas laughed, putting both arms around his neck. "Did you miss me, uh?"  
   
Jack didn't answer as he let him free. He had a strange look on his face. "Did you do it?"  
   
Atlas knew what Jack wanted to know.  
   
"Yeah, boyo. Frank Fontaine is dead." He wasn't feeling sad: he had done the best for the city, the best for himself, for  _Jack_. "There's no turning back now."  
   
Jack smiled. "Time to pay my father a visit, then."  
   
Atlas kissed him, the rush of the blitz fading away just like that; Jack's smell and taste had become so familiar and addicting.  
   
Yes, things were changing: they were going to conquer the city, blocking the ADAM business forever and curing the Little Sisters.   
   
They were stronger than Ryan and nobody could have stopped them.  
 


End file.
